


breeding lilacs out of the dead land ( April is the cruellest month )

by wearealltalesintheend



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst and Humor, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, impromptu literature corner, merry christmas/happy new year/this is late i'm sorry isa, way too many metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9186767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: "So, in the beginning, they had a mission. Quite easy. In and out plan. Just go from place A to place B, rescue some loser, go back to place A. But that was in the beginning, back with Pike. Back when Jim was just a damn cadet and no one expected him to magically solve all of their problems. "or the one in which the world is broken, Pike is missing, Spock is hiding in a ruined Walmart, and Jim is just trying his best in a no-win situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buckydarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckydarling/gifts).



> Okay, first: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR MY DEAREST,,,,,, ISA!  
> This is very late and I am very sorry, I am no good with deadlines, but here is your gift! It's a little less plotty then planned and lil too pretentious but I hope you enjoy it! You are amazing and deserves the world!
> 
> Second, the title is from the poem The Waste Lands by T.S. Eliot, the random bits of literature are from Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, by Lewis Caroll (can you tell I love this book?), and finally the quote mentioned midway is from the poem The Hollow Men, also by T.S. Eliot.
> 
> Third, if it's confusing or if there's any mistakes, please tell me so I can fix it, because, you see, I don't have a beta and this is pretty much me trying to be inspired by Jack Kerouac ( aka word vomiting and hoping for the best )
> 
> Now, I hope y'all enjoy!

No one remembers when the world ended.

 

Some say it happened somewhere on the twenty first century. They say there isn't a moment you can pinpoint, there wasn't an explosion or a great war or a virus. Those are the ones who claim the world had been ending for quite some time before anyone realized. Before it came to this.

 

These are the stories Jim believes the most, not entirely, but mostly. The ones who say greed and hate and lies brought the world to the wasteland he lives in now. The stories about corrupt governments trying to conquer and defeat and steal. About mankind taking and taking and taking until there was nothing left.

 

It's like they never thought about the future, about the _after._ What did they think it would happen? After they cut down forests and poisoned the rivers? After they exploded and dug and killed? _After._

 

 Did they not think?

Jim remembers his mother used to say they didn't _want_ to think, to believe, to consider, until it was too late. They all kept hoping for a miracle that never came. They all thought someone would come up with some genius solution for their problems. Jim thinks they never thought it would turn out to be _their_ problem too.

 

But that's all speculation, Winona hadn't been alive at that time either. _Before._ She was a product of the wastelands, not like Jim or Chekov or even Bones, no, but a product of _after_ nonetheless.

 

They were different, this new generation, Jim's generation. They weren't born in the chaos that developed after the End. They were born into what happened after the _After._ They had sand in their blood, the sun in their skin, stones in their bones. They had survival etched in their minds. They were born in the small settlements, in the middle of deserts, in the midst of bloody leaders and wanna-be dictators. When they were born, no one remembered _before._

 

Or rather, they told themselves they forgot.

 

.

.

.

 

They just walk, Jim's group. _Family._ They explore the wastelands and they scavenge and they search. But mostly, they walk.

 

They had a mission, in the beginning. Not in _Jim' s_ beginning. But, you know, in the _beginning,_ back with Pike.

 

Jim didn't start as their leader. He didn't start, period. Still, he fell in place in the end.

 

.

.

.

 

Jim's start is more or less like this, or, at least, that's how he remembers it:

 

_He was at a bar. Because of course, of course, even after the end of the world, the need for alcohol would prevail over the need of a government. So, he was at a bar, and it was going great. The scotch was good, old, bitter in his tongue and his mind was going a little fuzzy at the edges. In fact, there was alcohol enough in his blood to give him the idea of approaching the cute girl at the bar. It should be easy. It's always easy._

 

_It was not easy._

 

_It was a goddamn disaster. Somehow some damn cadets got sucked in the story and somewhere along the lines someone punched someone. And then, well, everyone punched Jim._

 

_The fight in itself is a blur of pain and blood in his mind, and yet, he remembers clearly Pike's whistle ringing through the bar._

 

_He also remembers puking in his shoes._

 

_The next thing Jim recalls with clarity is Pike babling on about Jim's father. George Kirk. The great. The hero. Yeah, that guy.  Jim's used to that, people falling over themselves to ask him about his father, which is, by the way, pretty fucking pointless 'cause Jim knew him for all of zero seconds before the guy was shot down. So, yes, Jim knows the drill. Except, well, except Pike went to a totally different direction real fast and gave Jim fucking whiplash._

 

_He couldn't get Pike's words out of his head that night._

 

"I dare you to do better."

 

_Jim waltzed in Captain Pike's office at 7:57am, three minutes before the deadline for enlisting._

 

The rest, as they say, is history.

 

.

.

.

 

So, in the beginning, they had a mission. Quite easy. In and out plan. Just go from place A to place B, rescue some loser, go back to place A. But that was in the beginning, back with Pike. Back when Jim was just a damn cadet and no one expected him to magically solve all of their problems.

 

.

.

.

 

_September, 23th;_

 

_Greetings, old friend._

 

_I wish our reunion were in better situations, but yet, it has indeed come to this. I am afraid my research has been compromised. He is back. Amanda fears for our safety. I must ask you to help us. I have the final results with me._

 

_Live long and prosper,_

 

_Sarek._

 

_._

_._

_._

_September, 25th_

_Sarek,_

_Be ready. You must keep it safe.We are coming to help._

_Pike_

_._

_._

_._

It had been the last days of september when they left the settlement. Pike had been leading. Jim was a cadet. Bones the medical help. Chekov was the genius. Sulu was the man with the big guns. And sword. Never forget Sulu's sword. Anyway. Uhura was the linguist. And that one cute girl at the bar that one time. Not that Uhura would ever let him forget that.

The point is: they all had the one assignement they had been trained for at Pike's little makeshift academy.

The point is: it was so much easier back then.

 

But it had been the last days of september when they left. Now, there is no snow falling from the sky, but it is a cold enough december anyway.

 

.

.

.

 

Sometimes Jim fears Uhura is lonely. Because out there, in the deserts, everyone is lonely, sure, but Sulu has Chekov and Jim has Bones.

 

Uhura has no one.

 

She had Gaila, once. Gaila with the lovely red hair and green eyes. Gaila who would help anyone and everyone. Gaila who could keep up with Chekov's rapid fire blabbering. Lovely, lovely Gaila.

 

Uhura had Gaila, once. In the way Sulu has Chekov and Jim has Bones. Okay, maybe not quite like Jim has Bones, because Jim is pretty sure she never developed a crush on her long time friend.

 

They had been inseparable, back in the academy. Roommates since the first days, friends until the very end. Gaila's end anyway.

 

Uhura used to protect Gaila in the way Sulu tries to protect Chekov, desperatly trying to keep the innocence in their eyes. But the desert is merciless, and she failed anyway. In the way, Sulu never wants to.

 

But no one could have saved Gaila. Lovely, lovely Gaila.

 

So, Uhura had Gaila once. In the way Sulu has Chekov and Jim has Bones. 

 

Uhura had Gaila, once. But that was back then.

 

.

.

.

 

When it happened, no one had seen it coming.

 

Pike had been saying something about some top secret research, the sun was hot in their backs.

 

Then, _they_ appeared out of nowhere.

 

Dozens of men surrounded them, guns blazing, knives flying.

 

In the outskirt of the battle, a man had stood watching it unfold. Nero, he said he was called.

 

But Jim hadn't been there. Neither had Bones, or Uhura, or Chekov, or Sulu. Not that he knew it at the time.

 

They had been told to scout the place, find shelter to spend the night. Somewhere safe, or as safe as it gets. Each of them had taken off a different direction, walking and walking until Pike and the others had been just a dot fading in the distance.

 

For Jim, the waiting had been the worst. The not knowing if any of the others had survived. He had sat in the bloodied sand, cradled Gaila's body to his chest and waited and watched.

 

Uhura was the first to arrive. Jim saw the moment understanding dawned, her brain assimilating the scene before her. Her face had twisted into something ugly, grief tearing at her seams. She clung to Gaila and cried herself hoarse.

 

Sulu was next, Chekov's name on his lips. He had taken in the sight, the bodies, Uhura's sobbing, Jim's empty eyes, and screamed and trashed and cursed. Eventually, he, too, went numb.

 

Finally, Bones. Jim had been up and running before he even realized. They clung to each other, their heartbeats reassuring _alive alive alive._

 

Chekov was last. Sulu had been pacing and watching the horizon, the unspoken words haunting his steps and weighing him down. But then there had been a dot in the distance, and soon the strange accent filled the silence.

 

They waited a whole day. No one else came.

 

.

.

.

 

The thing about missing bodies is that they have got to be somewhere.

 

And they seldom stay dead.

 

.

.

.

 

They find Spock out of dumb luck.

 

More like bad luck.

 

Jim didn't hate the guy. Not at all. It's just that who the fuck goes around wandering the wastelands in some goddamn _bowl cut_ and _alone._ It's asking for death.

 

Except, somehow, Spock survived half a month on his own. After watching his mother be murdered and his father taken hostage by some madman.

 

So, yeah, Jim is trying to cut him some slack, he really is, but the guy is just too annoying. He picks at everything Jim does. From the way he phrases his words to the core of his ideas. And if Jim hears _that's illogical_ one more time, he's going to scream. Or kill him. Or kill himself. Or all of the aboves.

 

So, they find Spock out of luck, hiding inside old ruins of a Walmart and asking _does any of you know a Captain Pike?_

 

He tells them about researches, an old science building and dozens of men attacking his home. He tells them about hills covered in green, two old friends and _hope._

 

Jim wants to tell him that _hope_ is highly illogical, so if he could just come down his goddamn high horse, it would be great. Except he doesn't, because, most of all, Jim wants to believe.

 

He can't, not yet, but Chekov has a new look on his face and Uhura looks at Spock like he hung the moon and stars and Sulu seems to have striken an odd sort of camaderie, and Bones says _he's a damn hobgoblin, but he's not so bad,_ so in the end, Jim finds letting Spock stay, it's not much of a choice.

 

.

.

.

 

Of things they don't tell you:

 

Once  you spilled blood, it doesn't go away. It never washes off. It stains your hands forever. It grows and festers.

 

Killing someone, in the wastelands, it's easy. But you'll see it everytime you look at your hands. Some nights, you will smell the copper.

 

But they don't tell you how, when you dream, it's dripping red.

 

.

.

.

 

Sometimes, Jim wishes Pike were dead.

 

Because, you see, Jim knows the alternative, he remembers Tarsus so, yeah, it's fucking awful but he hopes Pike is dead.

 

Sometimes, Jim believes it. Honestly. There are so many times it feels as if they are looking for a dead body, the possibility of finding a rotten corpse more and more real in his mind and he can almost smell the wet decay.

 

Jim's not sure if this rogue cruzade of theirs is the right, or even sane, thing to do, he's not sure if they shouldn't have turned tails and run back to the settlement, announced Pike's KIA and gone on with life.

 

Sometimes, Jim wishes Pike is dead and sometimes Jim is not sure of anything at all.

 

.

.

.

Sometimes, Jim _hopes._

_._

_._

_._

_"Now, Kitty, let's consider, who it was that dreamed it all?"_

 

.

.

.

Of things Jim Kirk almost tells Leonard McCoy but never does:

 

_"_ You're my best friend"

_"_ Thanks"

_"_ You're the best fucking person I've ever met, okay? It's like unfair competition, man. You're a goddamn singularity, like, the laws of physics don't apply and I have no clue why it makes my chest feel funny. Maybe you should check that out, doc."

_"_ I fugured it out."

"Thanks for having my back, Bones. I couldn't do this without you."

_"_ I trust you"

_"_ This is a whole new level of fucked up situation, even by my standards, but you make it kinda okay."

_"_ I can't do this alone."

"I like _like_ you."

"Don't ever leave."

_"_ I love you"

"I love you"

"I love you"

_._

_._

_._

It's easy, with the sun scorching your back and boiling your blood, to lose your temper. It only takes one wrong word.

And Jim, well, he's never been one to measure words. So, he's not surprised when it happens.

The fight, that is.

Jim had wanted to say _no, we should not go back to your science building, it's clearly a trap_ but instead, what comes out is _it's a fucking trap, you robot! I know you don't give a crap about your parent's sacrifice but let's not make Pike's in vain._

And so, fighting with Spock comes as no surprise, no.

 

What _does_ surprise him is Bones telling him to go walk it off.

 

It fucking hurts because Bones? Bones is supposed to be at _his_ side, to back _him_ up. Bones is not supposed to side with a stranger instead of going with his best friend.

 

And what Spock is proposing? It's bullshit. It's suicide. It's- Okay, it makes sense, in a martir sort of way. The whole _for the greater good_ sort of way, and hey, Jim is all about that too, don't get him wrong, but he'd rather it didn't mean putting _everyone_ he loves in harm's way. Even less if it's based on a _maybe._

 

But Spock doesn't get that because Spock is a infuriating robot with a bowl cut.

 

So, Jim walks it off, looks at the stars, and wishes for any other way.

 

.

_._

_._

_"You see, Kitty, it must have been either me or the Red King. He was part of my dream, of course -- but then I was part of his dream, too! "_

_._

_._

_._

Finding Scotty, that's a miracle.

Jim finds him while he's _walking it off_ and okay, maybe a little lost. The moon is alone in the sky, shining against the sand and Jim finds Scotty in a decaying shack.

Montgomery Scott, another strange lilt to words, another sharp mind wasting away in the Wastelands.

They share a bottle of Scotty's own recipe and maybe a few more after that, too. They're on bottle number three when Jim tells him The Story of How It All Went To Hell and How They Are All Beyond Fucked.

First, Scotty laughs, reaches for another drink. Then, the smile drops, he says _ay, lad, I know him."_

So, Jim gets lost, finds Scotty and Jim listens.

_._

_._

_._

In the end, when the world ends, it doesn't go alone. The good, the innocent, the meek; they all end with it. There is no place for them _after._

So, the ones that survive, that linger, they're the ones to be feared. Surviving, it isn't pretty.

When the world ends, there isn't good or bad. There is only sane and mad.

 

Nero, he used to be sane. Until the _after_ took everything from him.

 

He had been away, looking and working and scavenging for food, when it happened.

 

He had a family, once. Wife, kids, mother, father. The whole deal.

 

In a way, it's better not to have in the first place, than to lose it all in the span of a day.

 

Nero, he's a madman, yes, but he's also a man clinging to a revenge fueled mission because, at the end of the day, that's all he has.

_._

_._

_._

_"Was it the Red King, Kitty? You were his wife, my dear, so you ought to know -- Oh, Kitty, do help to settle it! I'm sure your paw can wait!"_

_._

_._

_._

It wasn't all bad, having Spock around. Jim can recognize that. In a third party point of view, from a distance. And glasses. And perhaps with a healthy dose of creativity.

But, all in all, it wasn't all bad. Humans really are capable of adapting to everything, after all.

 

Not that Jim was getting soft, no. It's just that Sulu seems to have finally found someone to geek out about plants and he and Spock once spent an entire fucking afternoon talking about _how different environment affects different plants,_ and Jim never saw Sulu more excited.

 

Not that Jim was getting soft, no. It's just that Chekov is only seventeen and even though they all try their best, the kid needs a better role model than fuck ups like Jim. So, Spock is nowhere near the best role model either, but his calm logic kind of fits in with Jim's stupid bravery and Bones' down to earth attitude and Uhura's strenght and Sulu's resilience. So maybe, with the damn robot around, they might get closer to a full, whole, functional person for Chekov to look up to.

 

Not that Jim was getting soft, no. It's just that Uhura is, somehow, against all logic, defying all warning signs and red lights, in love with Spock. And it makes no fucking sense, that's not even how Stockholm syndrom _works_ , there is no angle from where Jim can say _oh, yes, I see it now_. But. There is always a but. So, _but_ Jim will be damned if he's getting in the way of that. Because again, against all logic and reason, she seemed to have something going for her there. And Uhura, she is a fucking goddess, and Jim still remembers cradling Gaila's body and the way Uhura's face twisted and crumbled. So, she deserves at least one good thing in her life, even if it comes in the form of a seven foot, emotionally constipated, infuriating robot.

Not that Jim was getting soft, no. It's just that, sometimes, when the stars align and the moon is in just the right position, Spock can be funny. Like, really funny. Sometimes, the guy just says something in that deadpan voice with such a serious face that Jim can't help himself, it's just hilarious. Maybe it's the contrast of his words and his face, or maybe Jim is losing his mind already, but c'mon, give him a break.

 

But most of all, it's not that Jim is _getting_ soft. It's just that Bones has this sass competition thing going on with Spock, where they keep trying to out-sass each other, and okay, maybe there had been some hostility in the beginning, but now? Now, Bones gets this look on his face and his lips twitch up in a way that makes Jim's heart fucking flutter. So, Bones and Spock have their banter thing going on, and Jim has always been soft when it comes to Leonard McCoy.

All things considered, it's not all bad.

_._

_._

_._

_Rewind_

Once upon a time there were three friends: a scientist, a soldier and a worker.

One day, they began to wonder _what if?_

They all dreamed a dream in shades of green and blue.

 

So the three friends, they set out to work, to bring their dream to life. They wanted to turn the yellow and the grey into green, blue and the whole of the rainbow.

It wasn't easy, none of them knew where to start. Because, you see, the scientist wasn't yet a scientist and the soldier wasn't yet a soldier, only the worker was already a worker.

 

It took them years to even find a place to start, an ancient building half destroyed, but still filled with knowledge inside. Books, broken machines, old reports.  It wasn't perfect but it was a beginning.

 

Time passed and life went on, the three friends found families of their own, they weren't alone anymore, but a long time ago they made a promise and dreamed a dream in colors.

 

The scientist finally became a scientist and the soldier was on his way of becoming a soldier. The worker was still a worker, but his mission grew and each time it took him farther away.

 

They had all they needed; not what they wanted, not yet, but what they needed to get there. They were content.

 

But it was still the Wastelands, even if they forgot that, the danger, the fear, the desperation out there. They forgot it in all their dreams. They forgot it but it did not forget them.

 

Happiness hardly lasts in the Wastelands, and one day it all came to an end.

 

Not for _all_ of them, but for _them._

 

The scientist had been inside, working on his research, his wife by his side helping him along.

 

The not-yet-soldier had been inside fixing machinery, his girlfriend at his side, teaching him how to work.

 

The worker, he had been away, looking for food and scavenging for supplies, his family all behind, at the building, outside helping however they could.

 

None of them saw the thieves. None of them saw the guns.

 

But they all heard the shots.

 

The building still had locks and makeshift barricades. Outside, there was nowhere to hide.

 

Once upon a time, there were three friends. A scientist, a soldier and a worker.

 

Once upon a time they shared a dream, but the Wastelands covered it in blood.

 

The worker, he cried and cursed and blamed. He swore revenge at nothing and everything. He hated and grieved until it consumed him. He looked at his friends and saw someone to blame. He fled into the night, bitter and hurt and plotting.

 

The soldier, he became a soldier that day. He fought and cursed. He protected all those he could. He painted the sand red. He didn't stay after the sunrise.

 

The scientist, he stayed. He had his research to finish and a pregnant wife to care. He stayed and watched them all leave.

 

Once upon a time, there was a family.

 

Once upon a time.

 

.

.

.

 

Of the books Jim never reads but Uhura quotes anyway:

 

_"This is the way the world ends/ not with a bang but a whimper"_

 

.

.

.

 

So, Scotty fits in with the group ( _family_ ) almost as if he was always there, as if a Scotty-shaped hole had just been filled. It's nice and Jim isn't sure why he feels relieved.

 

Scotty fits in and finding him was a miracle, because Scotty knows how to navigate the desert, he knows the paths and trails and traps.

 

Most importantly, Scotty has been around the Wastelands for so long, he knows how to get to Spock's home without attracting attention.

 

Finding Scotty is almost like finding the missing piece of their puzzle, like they were complete now, their ragtag group. Together, they can make it work.

 

And it's kinda funny how their first mission, the original mission, Pike's mission merges with Spock's mission, but also adds side missions, and it's a mess of a mission. It's kinda funny, in the fucked up, hysterical kind of way. Jim can relate.

 

So, now Jim looks at everyone and he sees a group of people who could've done so much more in a world that hasn't ended. They could've reached the stars.

 

Jim also sees _family_ and _love_ and _friends_ and _hope._

 

He doesn't fear what's ahead of them. Jim has Bones and Uhura and Sulu and Chekov and Scotty and even Spock. They've got it all covered.

 

Together.

 

.

.

.

 

Once upon a time there were three friends with a dream that turned into a nightmare.

 

Now, there's seven trying to fix it.

 

.

.

.

 

Nero is waiting for them, because _of course Nero is waiting for them._

 

And it's going to be a shitshow, Jim can already feel it.

 

They are still incognito, which is good, but it's also temporary, because it's them and when hasn't it all gone to shit?

 

And now, in hindsight, Jim figures they should've planned this a little beyond _get there, don't die._ It _is_ working wonderfully so far, yes, but they _are_ still far from completing the mission.

 

It was _so much_ easier in the beginning.

 

Anyway, on with the plan.

 

.

.

.

 

Pike isn't dead and neither is Sarek.

 

It's a relief, even if they look _a lot_ worse for wear and _a lot_ beat up, even if there is way too much blood around them. Still, it takes the weight of the world from Jim's shoulder and Spock's face is doing a thing where he looks younger than his years and his eyes show more emotion than Jim has ever seen there.

 

Pike and Sarek are alive and Jim has no idea how to get through Nero and bust them out, not without some major injuries and possible organ damage.

 

Jim looks at Spock and finds a quiet understanding there. Spock gets it, he sees the odds like Jim. It's new, finding someone who sees it like Jim. They might not always agree in the best course of action, but they understand it the same. It's nice, a comforting thought, if not a little melancholic; there is a sense of kinship there that Jim wishes he found sooner.

 

Jim looks at Spock and finds quiet understanding there, a calm acceptance of their fate. It's like his eyes are saying _it is how fate works_ and yes, Jim can see the maths here, to save two lives they need to sacrifice the two of them. Except, it's not saving just two lives, not really, because Spock still has an old flashdrive in his pocket that only Sarek knows how to decrypt and Pike is the leader keeping their settlement together. So in the end, it's all about the greater good.

 

Jim thinks they shouldn't be so okay with it. They should be kicking and screaming and maybe cursing the world. And it's not like they _want_ to die, but Jim is tired and Spock looks tired too, so it feels eerily like relief. It feels like finally finding peace, like falling asleep. It's fucked up, Jim knows and maybe Spock knows too, but it's been a long time and Jim can't remember a moment when things weren't fucked up.

 

But the others don't see it like Jim and Spock do, they don't see the odds here. They can't see three moves ahead, they don't see the checkmate coming their way.

 

So, Jim watches Bones, commits it all to memory, thinks _don't remember me like this._ He looks at Spock, nods _,_ tells the others _I have a plan_.

 

.

.

.

 

Jim's master plan:

 

_1) Scotty causes a divertion and do not, repeating, do not die._

 

_2) Jim and Spock neutralize Nero._

 

_3)Bones and Sulu get Pike and Sarek. Again, dying or any major injuries are not allowed._

 

_4) Uhura and Chekov find a working laptop to take and erase all the research on the database. No dying, no getting seriously hurt._

 

_5)Ride into the sunset._

 

.

.

.

 

It all goes smoothly according to plan until it inevitably doesn't. Jim's not surprised.

 

When he ends up staring down the barrel of a gun, he's not surprised either.

 

From where he's standing he can see Spock unconcious on the floor, blood pooling around him and Jim's not sure he's still alive. It makes him sadder than expected.

 

From where he's standing he can smell the gun powder, the copper, _death._ Jim can see the madness lurking behind Nero's eyes, the hurt and wild look on his face.

 

From where he's standing he notices the way Nero's hands shake and Jim hopes, when the man takes the shot, he either hits him or not at all. Bleeding out on the floor seems a terrible way to go.

 

From where he's standing, Jim doesn't see Spock get to his feet, pick up an iron bar, sneak up on Nero, hit him on the back of his head.

 

Jim sags against the desk behind him, takes a deep breath, looks up at Spock, another look of quiet understanding passing between them. He picks up the gun, feels the weight on his hands, points it at Nero.

 

Jim knows Spock wants him to take the shot, but Jim knows Spock is thinking about his mother crumbling to the floor and the bruises and the blood cloaking his father, and fair enough, that's plenty of reasons for Jim to fire the gun, but Jim can help but think about Gaila, the way her body had paled under his hands, cold even in the scorching sun, her auburn hair caked with blood. Jim thinks about Gaia and wonders if this is how Nero felt to a degree. It's no excuse for the bloodbath and chaos he wrecked, but it's enough for Jim to say _if you let us go, you can live._

 

Nero says _go to hell_ and goes for another gun.

 

It's a split second, but Jim thinks of the blood in his hands and the lack thereof in Spock's. Thinks of waking up screaming, of scrubbing and washing his hands, of never fading stains.

 

Jim takes the shot.

 

.

.

.

 

After that, t becomes a blur.

 

Walking out of the building, joining the others, checking for injuries, watching the flames burn it all down, the smoke flying up in black clouds.

 

It's strangely cathartic.

 

Pike hugs him, something like pride coloring his smile.

 

Sarek nods at his son, pats his shoulders. Jim isn't sure what else he expected.

 

Uhura laughs like she doesn't quite believe it all worked out, throws her arms around Spock's neck and kiss him. For Jim, she punches his shoulders, says _never do that again,_ hugs him, _it's Nyota._

 

Sulu shakes his head at the both of them, says _you're all crazy, man_ , shakes his head again, _totally insane._

 

Chekov talks their ear off, word vomiting in lightspeed, following them around, asking questions, smiling, saying _fantastic, sir!_

 

Scotty laughs loudly, claps Jim’s back, shakes his head, says _aye lad, drinks on me,_ grins widely and walks off.

 

And Bones, he crushes Jim into a hug, cursing and threatening to punch him in the face, but it's okay, because Jim can hear his heartbeat and feel the heat coming off his body, and Bones is clinging onto Jim as much as Jim is clinging onto Bones, so the small flicker of hope in his chest is soaring, threatening to set him on fire, to consume him, a sun coming to life, ready to turn into a supernova. Jim is kind of shaking, maybe from the adrenaline, maybe from shock, maybe from the inferno inside him, he's not sure, but he clings and clings, because Bones is there _alive_ and Jim almost died, he heard the click of the safety coming off, saw the gun being cocked and aimed at his head. Jim is all kinds of fucked up right now, but he _stared down the barrel of a gun_ and _survived,_ so he's feeling pretty much invincible right now and all that crap about being tired feels irrelevant and stupid, or, at least, a lot easier to deal with.

 

And Jim feels like he's standing in the edge of a cliff, waves crashing miles and miles below him, and he can't turn back, take the road back to what was before. He's standing at the edge of a cliff and the more he looks down, the more he wants to fall. He's standing there, at the very edge, feeling the wind propeling him forward, the waves calling him below. So Jim thinks about the gun, the safety going off, the smell of the gun powder as he feels like he's standing at the edge of a cliff. He takes the fall.

 

Jim takes the fall and kisses Bones, his heart thundering in him ribcage, blood drumming in his ears. And Bones kisses back, pulls him closer, hands tightening around him like he's afraid Jim will disappear if he lets go.

 

They are not entirely okay yet, but they're getting there.

 

.

.

.

 

The Wastelands are still miles and miles of hell on earth, yellow sand stretching in all directions, reflecting the sun and amplifying the heat, but now they are heading back home, so everything feels softer, easier.

 

It still takes them almost a month to get back, but they do.

 

.

.

.

 

Of things Jim Kirk finally tells Leonard McCoy:

 

"I love you"

 

"I love you"

 

"I love you"

 

.

.

.

 

It's not the ending yet, not for Jim, or Bones, or _Jim and Bones,_ or any of the others. It's the end of a story inside their story, an interlude, and it feels more like a beginning.

 

It's not The End and it's not The Beginning.

 

It's just the ending of a story they will tell their children at night, and if you ask Jim, he'll say it's the story they will tell on history books, you know, after Sarek does his science and fix the world again.

 

And Jim knows the world won't be fixed, not over a night, not for a really long time, but he likes to think, one day, no matter how centuries need to pass, the world will heal, and there will be a generation who doesn't have to live in fear, and desperation, and deserts, who's not fucked up. And okay, maybe that's wishful thinking, but Sarek says his research says it's not impossible, nature is remarkably resilient, and he's found a type of plant that can survive in a controlled environment, so it's a start. And everytime Jim walks by the newly built science labs and sees the small, _growing,_ green dots, Jim _hopes._

 

Besides, look at him now. Jim's _happy. Of course,_ there are still times when he feels the tired and angry, but these are the nights Bones will bring him food and a bottle of vodka, sit with him outside and look at the stars. It's his way of saying _it's okay_ and Jim is grateful.

 

And even if sometimes Bones comes home from the clinic with a haunted look on his eyes, Jim hugs him, steers him to bed and holds him.

 

It's not easy, but it's _theirs_ and they're happy.

 

.

.

.

 

And as for Pike, he retires from wandering the deserts. He takes to helping in the settlement as he can, and if his smiles are a lot less rare now, well, Jim is not going to be the one to point it out.

 

Pike takes to calling himself Admiral now, and Jim is not sure if that's how military ranks work, but he's also _Captain_ _Kirk_ now, so oh well.

 

And accepting the title means Jim inherits the responsability of finding food, supplies, explore. It also means  he needs his own party, his crew.

 

So when a mission comes, he puts up the ads and waits for cadets to volunteer. The names start to fill in and Jim's not surprised to find Uhura's, Chekov's, Sulu's, Bones's and Scotty's. There's still one name missing, but Jim tries not to be disappointed when he checks it everyday.

 

They're in front of Pike's office, the man himself fussing and scolding, checking and worrying, and Jim knows he should not be upset, but it feels strangely off and unbalanced as he looks at his crew. It's uncomplete and he knows they too notice the glaring empty spot among them.

 

Jim would never have pegged the bastard for a drama queen, but they are all ready to leave when Spock calmly walks out of the crowd of people surrounding them. He stops in front of Jim, says _I hear there's still room for one, do you require me to enlist first?,_ lips curling up, and Jim laughs, claps him on the back, says _there's no need, Mr.Spock, it's about damn time._

 

So, it's the ending of a story, but it's also the beginning of another, and as Jim looks around, thinks back at where they all started, watches the sun rising in the deserts, he smiles and _hopes._

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, you made it to the end! Thanks!
> 
> Now, if you liked or moderately enjoyed or was vaguely amused or hated it with all your being, consider dropping a review or a kudo, it makes my day and it's completely free. You can also reach me on _[my tumblr](http://neverforgetswhatyou-lost.tumblr.com/)_.
> 
> And hey, thanks.


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